Chapter 108: Dust Settles

Chapter 108: The Dust Settles

"The Dowager Duchess of the Lu Ducal Estate?"

Jiang Wanrou grew even more puzzled and pressed further, "The Dowager Duchess of the Lu Ducal Estate?"

Her former "mother-in-law"? Wasn't she confined to the ducal estate's Buddhist chapel? How could a frail old woman possibly assassinate the emperor in the palace? It was unbelievable.

Huo Fei'ang gave a slight nod. "The details will be explained by His Royal Highness to you personally, Your Highness."

Regarding the emperor's assassination, the entire court remained tight-lipped, and Huo Fei'ang dared not say more. Jiang Wanrou nodded in gratitude without pressing him further.

Another half-hour passed before the carriage entered the palace through the Eastern Glory Gate. Jiang Wanrou lifted the curtain to look outside—the palace guards and maids moved in orderly fashion, each attending to their duties. The gilded dragon columns, vermilion walls, and glazed tiles were arranged just as she remembered from her previous visits, with no signs of struggle.

In the past, carriages had to stop outside the palace gates. Inside, only the emperor, empress, and high-ranking courtiers were permitted sedan chairs, while everyone else had to walk. The palace paths were long and straight, and Jiang Wanrou had always walked dutifully on foot. Today, however, the carriage entered through the Eastern Glory Gate unimpeded, proceeding directly into the inner court.

Aunt Li took the younger children to rest in a side hall, while Huo Fei'ang gestured and said, "His Royal Highness is in the Hall of Nurtured Harmony. Young Lord is to wait outside. Your Highness, this way."

The golden plaque above bore the inscription "Hall of Nurtured Harmony" in bold characters. Jiang Wanrou glanced worriedly at Lu Huaiyi and gently reminded him, "Young Lord Huaiyi, sit down and have something to eat first."

Lu Huaiyi shook his head. "Mother Consort, I'm not hungry."

How could he indulge when neither his mother nor grandmother had even had a sip of water? That his father chose to see his mother first spoke of their deep bond; that he was kept waiting meant there were matters to discuss later. Lu Huaiyi wasn’t afraid of exhaustion—he craved his father’s attention and guidance.

Back when they were merely in a princely mansion with only the title of "Prince," he had applied himself assiduously, fearing he might disappoint his father as heir. Now, as their carriage passed through the Eastern Glory Gate unchecked, Lu Huaiyi knew his father would one day ascend to the Dragon Throne.

He looked up. The sky was tinged with crimson dawn, casting its glow over the solemn palace walls, making everyone within seem insignificant. The six-year-old Lu Huaiyi stared blankly, swelling with anticipation, excitement, and a touch of bewilderment.

It felt like a dream.

...

Jiang Wanrou gathered her robes and stepped cautiously inside. The Hall of Nurtured Harmony was where the emperor usually rested—this was her first time entering. Passing through layers of golden-yellow drapes, she saw a tall figure standing with his back to her before the imperial bed.

"Husband?"

She called out tentatively. Lu Feng turned. With him no longer blocking the view, Jiang Wanrou saw the emperor—who had always strode with vigor—lying motionless on the bed, his chest stained with dried blood.

Shocked, Jiang Wanrou instinctively moved to kowtow, but Lu Feng stepped forward first, looking her over before pulling her into his arms.

"Don’t be afraid. It’s all over."

His voice was low and hoarse, his robes stained with blood and dust, his deep-set eyes bloodshot with exhaustion. Yet, in that moment, all the fear Jiang Wanrou had harbored through the night dissipated at the sight of him.

She had so much to say, but biting her lip, she caught sight of the insensate emperor and awkwardly pushed Lu Feng away, muttering, "Let’s... talk outside."

Even with the emperor lying there insensate, having an audience made her uneasy. An untimely thought crossed her mind: *Thank goodness the emperor can’t see this. If he did, I’d surely be branded a Jezebel and skinned alive.*

Lu Feng led her into an antechamber of the Hall of Nurtured Harmony. Even side rooms in the emperor’s quarters were spacious, yet Lu Feng held her tightly, burying his face in the hollow of her neck, silent for a long while.

Jiang Wanrou sensed his sorrow.

She was at a loss.

In all their years of marriage, he had rarely shown such emotion. Even when his leg was crippled, leaving him despondent, he had been filled with rage, resentment, and bitterness—never this vulnerable sorrow.

The only other time was when the Duke of Lu ascended to heaven. Standing alone before the ancestral hall, he had lowered his gaze, not shedding a single tear while his brothers wept uncontrollably.

But Jiang Wanrou had seen his fists clenched tightly beneath his sleeves, trembling slightly as he silently oversaw the funeral arrangements. And he alone had faithfully observed a full year of mourning abstinence.

By then, the household authority had already fallen into her hands. The second wife and third wife couldn’t last more than half a year before secretly buying meat to eat. Both households had children—even if the adults abstained from meat, the children couldn’t endure it. Jiang Wanrou saw through it but said nothing, especially since she herself had slipped Huai Yi extra food. The entire household, except for Lu Feng, who usually couldn’t go a meal without meat, never broke his mourning restrictions.

At that time, Jiang Wanrou began to suspect that Lu Feng wasn’t as cold and unfeeling as he appeared on the surface. He was simply quiet, keeping his emotions hidden within.

Jiang Wanrou embraced him in return, gently stroking his back with her palm as she whispered, "If you're tired, rest for a while. I’ll stay by your side."

"Not tired."

His warm breath brushed against her neck, making Jiang Wanrou couldn’t help shivering. Lu Feng released her and asked, "It happened so suddenly—I couldn’t come get her and their child. Were you frightened?"

Jiang Wanrou nodded, then quickly shook her head. She had been uneasy earlier, but upon seeing the prayer beads and hearing those words, she knew it was him.

"Seeing you, I’m no longer afraid."

She gazed at Lu Feng with concern and tentatively asked, "What’s wrong? And... His Majesty—what happened last night?"

There were no signs of a struggle in the palace. How could the emperor have been suddenly assassinated? Lu Feng had said it was "sudden," so sudden that he couldn’t even come get her and their son. Did that mean even Lu Feng hadn’t anticipated the emperor’s assassination?

Lu Feng stiffened slightly and murmured, "I didn’t want him dead."

Everything that happened last night had been part of his scheme, though the emperor had some idea about it. The tiger tally wasn’t in Ling Xiao’s hands—Jiang Wanrou had once discovered it on Lu Feng. In truth, after returning to the capital, Lu Feng had already reported this to the emperor.

Yet he hadn’t willingly returned it. He had said, "Several imperial brothers seek my life. With this in my possession, I can sleep soundly."

The emperor, of course, didn’t believe this bullshit. Whether the tally could protect him was debatable. Though he favored Lu Feng, his other sons weren’t foundlings—even Prince Gong, who had colluded with old enemies, had been spared. The emperor was both a "stern father" and an "indulgent father" to his sons.

More importantly, he was in his prime and had yet to appoint a crown prince or delegate power to the princes, confident in his ability to control everything.

Lu Feng remained silent, handing over the testimonies of those who had spread the rumors. While Lu Feng had fought desperately on the front lines, his brothers had stabbed him in the back. The emperor was furious upon reading them, but soon sighed and said, "I will punish them severely later. Rest assured—with me here, they won’t stir up trouble."

Lu Feng raised an eyebrow. "Is Your Majesty planning to gloss things over?"

The emperor was taken aback, his expression darkening. Displeased, he said, "Jun Chi, what they did was wrong, but it’s far from attempting your life. I will decide fairly—you won’t be wronged."

Lu Feng laughed coldly. "Not wronged? Then treat them as you did Qi Xuan—demote or confine them as deserved. If Your Majesty shows mercy today, tomorrow you’ll see my corpse."

"Bullshit!"

The emperor slammed the table, his beard quivering with anger. "Childish fights among brothers—if this gets out, won’t the entire court laugh at us? Besides, you know full well how I’ve treated you all these years! It’s only natural they resent you. They mean no real harm."

Lu Feng’s sharp gaze bore into the emperor as he said darkly, "The heart is hidden within the body—unless you cut it out, you can’t tell if it’s red or black. Your Majesty surely wouldn’t dare, so see it with your own eyes."

What exactly the emperor was meant to see, Lu Feng didn’t elaborate, nor did he seem inclined to return the tally. His defiance left the emperor trembling with rage, who stormed off, ordering Lu Feng to kneel outside until he apologized.

What followed was Jiang Wanrou pleading for her husband, while the Prince of Qi was placed under house arrest.

...

According to Lu Feng’s plan, once those idiots made their move, the emperor, who had been monitoring their every move, would likely lead the imperial guards himself upon receiving the news. To ensure he could finish them off before the emperor arrived, Lu Feng sought out the matriarch in the family shrine.

Back then, in the family shrine, the matriarch had stabbed him. Lu Feng had struck a deal with her.

"Settle scores with the right enemy—your true enemy is Prince Chen. I’ll deliver Chen Fu’s head to you. In return, help me once. Consider our mother-son debt cleared."

The emperor and the matriarch hadn’t met in over twenty years. A reunion between old adversaries, laden with years of grudges, would buy him the time he needed—even if swords came out... Lu Feng had considered this. After all, the matriarch had stabbed him once, but he didn’t dodge, burdened by guilt.

But how could a secluded noblewoman hold off the imperial guards and the vigorous emperor?

The situation had spiraled beyond his control. By the time he received news of the emperor's assassination, it was already too late—the deed was done.

His only intention had been to seize the chance to eliminate a few troublesome brothers. With his military achievements, he would be the emperor's only surviving adult heir. Even if he killed those men... hadn't they forged imperial decrees and turned against their own kin first? He was merely defending himself. The emperor knew his innocence. Even regarding Lady Zhao—Chen Fu had once sent a female spy to the small Buddhist hall, but he had kept her alive. Now that Chen Fu was dead, he could pin everything on the deceased. The dead cannot defend themselves.

He could claim the throne with his hands clean. He was patient. He had never intended patricide. The emperor himself had sharpened his first blade. His martial arts were taught by the Duke of Lu, but his horsemanship and archery—those were personally instructed by the emperor. As a child entering the palace, he had been awed by the emperor's majesty, yet the man had patted his head and laughed, "Fine boy."

Later, when he learned the truth of his origins, his feelings toward the emperor became complicated—reverence, love, and hatred intertwined. The emperor had given him the courtesy name 'Jun Chi.' He disliked using it, and others avoided mentioning it, yet the emperor called him by it constantly.

The emperor once said, "A gentleman is upright and governs himself with integrity. Jun Chi, you live up to this name."

He was never a gentleman.

The imperial physician declared the emperor beyond saving.

Last night, he had slain three brothers with his own hands. Now, the emperor too was slipping away. This morning, he presided over the court assembly—the dazzling golden throne was within effortless reach, far sooner than he had anticipated. Yet Lu Feng felt none of a victor’s triumph, only a fleeting emptiness.

Only in Jiang Wanrou’s arms did his heart find solace.